The Conquest
by TheMillionthMind
Summary: Henry knew it wasn't over. He could tell by the way Walter's breath heated his neck even though he wasn't there, how he saw the other every time he closed his eyes, how his mind revolved around Walter Sullivan. That was why he needed to go back.
1. Prologue

((Augh. I wrote this nearly a year ago. _ There are plenty of little bits I'm not proud of, but changing those bits would affect the following chapters, three of which I've finished, so I fixed what I could and decided to post. Maybe the feedback would make updating a bit easier, I figured. xD My good friend had a bigger hand in convincing me to post. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have posted Indulgence, either. xD Anyway, enjoy the fic and do give constructive criticism, please? 3

The pairing is Walter/Henry, just as a warning to those of you who don't like slash/yaoi/boy on boy. Rating is mature for future sexual content, violence and gore, and a small amount of cursing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill or its characters. I do not intend to make any tangible profit from writing this fic, so please don't sue me. ))

It wasn't over.

Henry could tell.

He was far away from that old apartment, now. He lived in the mountains over four hundred miles away from South Ashfield. He had returned to his old hobby of photography, and he'd made a great deal of friends. He was having a wonderful time, and his job was going well, too.

But none of that seemed to get his mind off the fact that Walter wasn't dead. How Henry knew this, he wasn't sure. But he did.

Henry could still picture him. Tall, long dirty blonde hair, and emerald eyes that bored oh so calmly right into one's skull. It was as if he could see right into one's thoughts—right into their very being. Just the thought of him sent a shudder down Henry's back.

Walter was a strange one, that was for sure. His presence was so…peaceful, despite the fact that he'd murdered twenty people, including himself. And he always had that smile on his face, like he was sure that things would work out for him in the end, that at the expense of twenty other people, he'd get what he wanted.

But at the same time, Henry pitied Walter. His belief that Room 302 was his mother had stemmed from the fact that it had 'sheltered' him when he was a baby—when his real parents had abandoned him. And then, he'd been brainwashed by those cultists at the Wish House. He had truly believed it was alright to risk the lives of twenty one people in order to revive just one.

Poor guy.

But that still didn't dismiss the fact that he'd tried to kill Henry. He couldn't let his guard down around the guy.

And he'd killed Eileen. Her piercing scream still rang through Henry's ears, along with the grotesque slicing sound that the machine had made when it had taken her life.

None of this ever seemed to faze Walter. He seemed so completely oblivious to the fact that he was taking the lives of people—causing grief for their families and friends, and ending their lives too early. Even when Eileen had died, that passive expression remained firm on his face, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

He probably didn't care, as long as he was with his precious mother.

As Henry headed down the path in the mountains and toward his home, he continued to ponder the issue. He rolled his camera back and forth in his hands, letting out a long sigh. It seemed as if he could never eliminate the man from his thoughts.

It felt as if Walter was breathing down his neck, yet that was impossible. He was hundreds of miles away! Regardless, Henry waved a hand behind him and ordered plainly, "Leave me alone."

And he could've sworn he'd heard that oh-so-placid voice right behind him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.

"_Come visit, Henry."_

The brunette stopped dead in his tracks, too frightened to even turn his head. His eyes shifted from side to side, his heart racing. The camera dropped from his right hand and fell onto the soft earthen path. He didn't dare move his feet or turn around. He was afraid that Walter would be there, gun in hand, ready to finish what he'd started.

Ten minutes later though, the mountains were still completely silent, and Henry had regained his willingness to move once more. He bent down and picked up the now-dirty camera, then continued down the path and in the direction of his home.

……………………

"_He's coming to visit."_ His green eyes lit up at the thought, and he faced his younger counterpart, a smile on his face. _"That means we can see Mom."_

The younger Walter gave his older self a confused look. It was obvious he still didn't understand why Henry's death gave them the ability to wake up his mother, but he was afraid to argue with the other, so he merely kept his mouth shut and gave a nod, his eyes scanning the floor beneath his feet.

"_I think we should get ready."_ The older Walter stated, grabbing the hand of his younger self.


	2. Chapter 1

((Here's chapter one! 3

Augh, it should probably be like a part two of the prologue since it's still leading up to the events, but what with the flashbacks and all, I guess I kept it a regular chapter.

Either way, not too interesting, just more leading-up-to's and I'll eventually get to the story guys, I promise. xD

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Silent Hill, its characters, or its story. I don't intend to profit from this writing.))

The bus ride was quiet, save for the occasional whirring of vehicles going by and the light chatter of a few elderly women two or three seats behind him. Henry's eyes were focused out the window, on the grass and trees that whipped by as they traveled down the highway. They were passing too quickly, he thought, considering that the direction in which he was headed was the last place he wanted to go.

But he had to. If he didn't, Henry feared that he'd never be free. Two days ago, when he'd heard that familiar voice in the mountains, he knew that things weren't over. Walter was not dead, and he could not keep running away from things. He had to find Walter and end this, once and for all.

From the very beginning, Henry had been intimidated by Walter. He could still clearly remember everything about the first time they'd met…

"_Henry Townshend." The words were cold and monotonous on his lips, despite the tilted head and curious grin on his face. His face was filthy, stained with blood and dirt, as well as his hands and clothing. His green eyes bored right into Henry's own, demanding his attention. The brunette froze, right there in the hospital room, at the disposal of the serial killer who'd taken the lives of Cynthia, Jasper, Andrew, and countless others._

_Henry hadn't had the foggiest idea what Walter Sullivan looked like in the beginning. But he knew now that he was standing in the same room as the infamous man. Everything about him was a dead giveaway, it seemed._

"_What're you doing in a place like this?" The long-haired man questioned, approaching Henry's shorter, smaller form. "You're not planning on taking Miss Galvin away from me, are you?"_

_Henry couldn't speak. He swallowed the tiny amount of saliva that remained in his mouth and took a step backward. He was going to die. He was in the same room as the man who had killed many before him without remorse. This was the end._

"Excuse me, son." Henry was snapped out of his thoughts by one of the elderly women who had been chattering earlier. She had taken a seat next to him. "Are you alright?" She questioned, her lips curled downward into a concerned frown.

"…Yeah." Henry answered, turning his full attention to her, now. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"You look a little pale." The woman responded quickly, reaching into her purse and pulling out a bottle of pills. "If you're motion sick, you can take one of these. It works wonders."

Henry sighed and waved a hand to the woman, signaling that he didn't need the pills. "I'm okay, I promise. Just a little tired, I guess."

"Alright…" The woman still seemed reluctant, but she returned the bottle to her purse anyway, watching him in evident, lingering worry. "What's your name, son? I'm Carol."

"Henry." He answered, taking the polite woman's hand and shaking it. "Thanks for your concern, Carol."

"You're very welcome." She answered with a smile. "If you're tired, you must have been on the road for a while. Where are you going?"

It was true, he was tired—he had been traveling for several hours, now. "Oh, it's about an hour and a half away, now." Henry answered. "A little town called South Ashfield."

"Really?" Carol perked up. "I have a grandson who lives there. But he's always calling me and telling me he wants to move. Says there were a lot of murders a few months back, and he doesn't feel safe anymore."

Oh, how Henry wanted to let her know just how correct her grandson was. He wanted to tell her that the murders were the reason he was headed there. But he knew that was dangerous, and it was best to keep anything about the case under wraps.

"I see." Henry gave a reluctant sigh. "I hope he finds a place, because I wouldn't want to live there in that case, either."

Carol gave a nod, her curly white hair bouncing as she did so. "I do, too. Say…why are you headed there, son?"

Henry shrugged. He'd gotten pretty good at coming up with stories for his business in South Ashfield. Even his former girlfriend back home didn't have the slightest clue what had caused him to leave his apartment there and move out to the mountains. "I'm visiting an old friend there. He doesn't say anything about the murders though, so they must not be happening on his side of town. I'll be fine, I promise."

It was obvious that the elderly woman had something to say, but the bus had made a stop, and the driver had announced that they were stopping at a location which Henry had not heard.

"Well, that's my stop." Carol sighed. "It was nice meeting you, Henry. Good luck in South Ashfield." She gave him a quick hug, then got to her feet and shuffled off the bus with her friends.

Henry watched her, a calm smile present on his lips. Carol had really made him feel a bit more comfortable. He sort of wished she'd been traveling to South Ashfield as well to visit her grandson. Too bad, though.

The rest of the bus ride was quiet, and Henry found himself dozing off on the way there. But once more, Walter haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, the man was staring back at him with that flaccid smile on his face. And when he was awake, Walter was there—leaning over his shoulder, breathing down his neck.

"_You look frightened." Walter commented as he took a step toward the brunette._

'_No shit,' Henry thought as he stumbled backward, making contact with a wall behind him. _

"_You shouldn't be." The tall, blond man spoke. "I can't kill you just yet."_

_That was right. Not until Eileen was dead. Henry had figured by now that he was one of those twenty one people that were supposed to die. And considering that Eileen was number twenty and she'd survived, he still had a chance._

"_However," Walter had taken the liberty to continue, "I guess I can play around a bit, as long as I don't mess with your heart or vital organs."_

_Henry's throat dried the minute he heard those words, and he could feel the bile rising up in his throat. Before he knew it, he was stumbling sideways, had fallen onto his knees, and was vomiting._

"_That scared, Henry?" Walter gave a laugh—a horrifying laugh that threatened to make Henry sick once more. He sat on his knees, gawking up at the taller man, waiting for his next move._

"We have arrived at the South Ashfield bus station." The gruff voice of the bus driver snapped Henry awake, and he quickly grabbed the small bag he'd packed and started off the bus. He yawned and paid the driver, then clambered out of the massive vehicle.

Not far down the street, Henry could see the South Ashfield Heights apartment complex. It was a lot bigger than he'd remembered, and kind of made him uncomfortable. But he had to go there, regardless of whether he was intimidated or not.

His decision now firmly in his mind, Henry pressed on and started toward a nearby hotel. Just in case he needed to, he had decided to reserve a room. He sure as hell wasn't staying in that wretched apartment, and not with the sneaking suspicion that Walter was currently residing there.

Henry made a quick process of checking into his hotel. He headed up to the room and dropped the bag on the single bed inside. He opened it only to pull out his gun and a separate magazine of bullets, just in case he needed more. Once he was ready, he headed out of the room and back to the outside world.

……………………………………

"_He's close."_ Walter's narrow eyes shifted around the room, landing on the female body resting in the hallway. _"Would you like to greet him?"_

The body had been motionless up until Walter's voice had penetrated her ears. A whispery groan fell from her lips as she got to her feet, hair hanging over her bloody face.

"_I don't want you to kill him."_ Walter ordered her. _"I want to do it. Just scare him a bit, if you want."_

A sound that mixed somewhere between laughing and crying came from the woman's lips, and she started out the door to greet their visitor. As the door shut behind her, Walter's thrilled voice could be heard.

"_Henry's here..."_


	3. Chapter 2

((Chapter two is finally here! We're finally getting some progress on the story as we move on, but it has yet to get interesting. Sorry for the slow start, guys!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Silent Hill, its story, or its characters. I don't intend to profit from this.))

"_South Ashfield Heights is a comfortable little complex, if I do say so myself." Henry watched the super—Frank Sunderland was what he said his name was—as he rambled on about how homey and comfortable the apartments were. He was busy leading them up the stairs to the third floor, where an empty room actually was, all the while stating that everyone knew each other in some way, and there was even a little kid who didn't even live at the apartments who came to visit once a week. Henry knew he was saying everything he could to give him a positive view on the complex._

_But when they stopped before 302, all of Frank's words failed to penetrate Henry's mind—he was too drawn to the door. Why, he didn't understand. It was just like any other room. But still, he couldn't help but feel attracted to it—like he was destined to rent this apartment. It sounded strange, but Henry couldn't fight it._

"_I'll take it." Henry stated, gawking at the closed door. Frank, who had been in the middle of unlocking the door to let the two of them inside, turned to face the brown-haired man in surprise._

"_I haven't even showed you the inside yet…" The super told him, raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity._

"_I know." Henry nodded. "But I like the feel of this one. Can I start moving in?"_

_Sunderland wouldn't argue with him, considering it just meant more rent in his pocket, so he gave a shrug, accepted the deposit from Henry, and tossed the brunette his new apartment key._

_As the months passed by though, Henry spent more and more time in his apartment. He rarely left for anything other than work or grocery shopping, and the neighbors were starting to express concern._

_Until that one day, when Henry woke up with his door locked from the inside and those chilling words scribbled in crimson just beneath the peephole._

"_**Don't go out! – Walter"**_

Henry tilted his head back, inhaling slowly, then let the air out as his hand found the handle to the South Ashfield Heights Apartments entrance. Once he had convinced himself to enter, he pushed the double doors open and took a step inside.

Unfortunately, he didn't get far. What looked like a normal—and by normal, Henry meant the apartments that Walter hadn't personally distorted and covered in blood and rust—apartment complex had defied Henry in the form of the lack of a floor, and the brunette found himself plummeting down into blackness. The air filled his lungs, making it hard to exhale, and Henry soon found himself squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself for the landing that he knew would be painful.

He didn't hear the sickening 'thud' that flesh made against pavement, nor did he feel the landing. But he knew he had landed. He could feel the cold, rough carpet on the right side of his face, and his body seemed to be resting on a very flat surface. And upon opening his eyes, he recognized the area he was in.

It looked just like Walter's version of the apartments. However, it was darker, and Henry felt slightly more unnerved by the look of it. He sat upright and slowly got to his feet, glancing around the dark, bloody apartment complex. He didn't see or hear any of the creatures he so vividly remembered, but he kept his eyes open regardless. He'd learned the first time through that anything could happen, and without preparation for the unexpected, you were as good as dead.

That in mind, Henry cautiously started to explore the room, checking for anything that could pose as a danger to him. When he found nothing of any risk, he started up the slimy, bloody stairs and toward the third floor. He had no need to explore all the other rooms like before. He knew where Walter was—he just needed to get there.

"Damn it…" He cursed aloud when reality finally smacked him in the face. Walter knew he was here and he was toying with him. That was why Henry was back in this nightmare. It wasn't going to be easy, even this time.

Walter really seemed to enjoy playing with human emotions and reactions…

Henry was nearly back to recalling another of those horrid experiences when something caught his eye about halfway up the stairs toward the second floor. A memo, Henry figured. He automatically knew that it would do him no good, given what he'd learned from reading memos and notes the last time. They always seemed to turn his trip into a maze.

Either way, the brunette made his way over to the note and picked it up, beginning to read.

"_The door for the third floor corridor is broken. The creepy man in the coat shot the knob off, I know it. I heard the bullet! There's a way up there through the second floor, though. But the key to the second floor corridor is missing, and I don't know where it is. I bet the man in the coat has it too. That freak really likes to play weird games."_

'Go figure…' Henry thought to himself as he tossed the note back onto the ground. It wasn't surprising that someone else found him intimidating, and it sure as hell was no surprise that Walter had decided to make things difficult.

Either way, Henry had to press on, so he made his way back down the steps and to the first floor. His first option would be to explore the first floor to find the key. Maybe the super's room had it?

With that in mind, the brunette headed into the door on the left side of the first floor, toward the super's room. The floors still made a disgusting squelching sound underneath his feet that reminded him of flesh, and the walls were still that revolting brown-red color. But he had adjusted to the surroundings somewhat from his last time through, so he managed to make it to the door without stopping. He was relieved to find that it opened.

"_Henry's here…"_ That voice filled his ears once more and Henry found himself falling to his knees on the ground, the pistol falling from his hands as he brought them up to clutch at the sides of his head. The pain was very sudden and almost agonizing, so much so that he even let out a loud groan of pain. The world around him grew dark and the ground seemed to fade beneath him.

Henry was surprised that he didn't pass out from the pain, and he was relieved to see that the surroundings hadn't changed from before. The only differences now were the heavy, almost suffocating feeling in the corridor and the squelching sounds coming from somewhere down the hall. Henry could hear some sort of voice—something between a laugh and a cry that sent shivers down his spine and made his hair stand on end.

He didn't understand how, but the presence in the corridor seemed familiar.

And like wildfire, the curiosity spread throughout Henry's body, and he was pacing quickly down the hall and around the corner to find what was waiting for him. He knew it wouldn't be something safe, especially since he'd heard those foreboding words just a while back. Anything from Walter wasn't a good sign.

The figure was still a good distance away, but Henry would recognize her anywhere.

At least, what remained of her.

She stood, facing away from him. Her hair seemed slightly longer and more askew than usual. Arms dangled loosely at her sides, the one that had been in a cast before now hanging at an odd angle. The bandages floated around the disfigured extremity, seemingly hoisted in the air around the limb by nothing. Her body glowed a dark crimson—the same color that it had before, after she started to become taken over.

Henry was standing face to face with the ghost of Eileen Galvin.

He knew she wasn't alive—hell, he'd watched her die in that creepy room with the machine before. He'd heard the scream that left her lips as she was mutilated. And he could see even from this distance that she was dead. Her flesh was pale—so much so that it actually _looked_ cold. And that strange noise coming from her lips? There was no way a living being could make a sound like that.

"…Eileen?" Henry questioned, slowly approaching the girl who didn't seem to be moving. "Eileen, is that you…?"

It was as if the closing distance between them was what alerted the girl to turn around. She did so slowly, her head dipped downward and never leaving the ground beneath her. But once she faced him, she tilted her head upward.

Henry didn't get to see her eyes before the ribbon-like bandages from her injured arm shot forward and in his direction.


	4. Chapter 3

((This took me WAY too long to get out. _ I promise I'll be faster next time, guys.

Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill 4, the characters, or the story. I don't intend to profit from this. Please don't sue me.))

It was a near miss. Henry could feel the wind from the offending bandages brushing by his face. Now, they were embedded in the wall next to the super's room, tugging their way out.

Henry didn't have to…fight her, did he?

"Eileen…" The brunette got to his feet, making sure the bandages were still prying themselves from the wall, then started toward his once-living companion. He didn't get much of a response—just another one of those laugh-cries as he heard another sound behind him.

This time, he wasn't given the chance to react. He could feel the strips of fabric as they wrapped themselves around his body, tightening almost immediately upon seizing their prey.

He didn't have much body movement to work with—both his legs were ensnared tightly by the appendage-like bandages, and one of his arms was trapped as well. And his gun was on the floor behind him.

By now, Henry knew that Eileen was under Walter's control. The sick bastard probably sent the poor girl to do his dirty work. In Henry's opinion, it was the most selfish way to go about things—if it were even possible to call Walter more selfish than he already was. After all, he'd set out to kill twenty one people—regardless of what their families and friends thought—all to bring back his mother who was apparently Henry's former apartment.

Henry's thoughts were interrupted in the form of a painful pressure on his free hand. Glancing over, he noticed that another of the bandages had seized it and were now tightening around it. He could move it a few inches around, but not much. For bandages seemingly suspended in the air, they were sure powerful.

He heard it before he felt it—the snap that came from his arm and made him feel sick to his stomach. Half a second later, he was screaming in pain, watching through squinted eyes as his arm was broken at the forearm. If the pain wasn't enough, the sight of his own arm dangling oddly sure made him want to retch. But he didn't have time for it. He wasn't sure how far Walter would take this, so even as the bile rose in his throat, he knew he needed to find a way out of this before it resulted in his death.

But just as he was beginning to come up with ideas for how to get out of this mess, the bandages loosened and his body slipped through their grip and onto the filthy apartment floor. He didn't have time to wonder why he'd been released, because Walter's voice filled his head again.

"_That's enough."_ The headache was back, and Henry's vision was fading. The pain in his arm didn't make it any better, and he quickly found himself falling back and into the depths of unconsciousness.

"_Isn't this fun?" Walter knelt before Henry's shivering frame, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the side. "Just the two of us, in this room together…"_

_Henry wasn't sure if it was the words that Walter had spoken or the way with which he'd spoken them, but something about them made him nervous. What exactly was this guy going to do to him?_

_The blonde's hand found Henry's face, running along the stubble on his chin, then back up to his cheek, causing the brunette to shudder and turn away. "Don't touch me." He managed, but in a quiet voice that held no firmness whatsoever. Henry was completely at Walter's mercy, and he knew that there was nothing he could do about it._

"_You don't like it?" Walter questioned, as if his cold, blood-stained hands actually felt nice against Henry's skin._

_He was tempted to scream as loud as he could or shove the other back, but his body wouldn't move. He was frozen and at the will of the other's touch. So instead, he managed, "What're you doing?"_

"_Touching you." Walter quickly answered, a calm smile on his face. "Your skin's so soft. It feels nice."_

_Every word made Henry ill to the very core, but he found he didn't have much time to react when he was pressed backward and onto the ground, Walter now hovering above him on his hands and knees._

His vision was blurry, but Henry could tell he was staring at the ceiling of those disgusting apartments. There went all hope of this being a nightmare.

Nonetheless, he forced himself up into a sitting position, greeted by the searing pain of the limb that had been broken earlier. He glanced at his arm, then ran his other hand over his sweat-covered face as he bent his knees, getting to his feet. The pain in his arm was more intense with each tiny wave that the limb gave when Henry attempted to move any other part of his body. But he couldn't just stand there. He had to do something about it.

That in mind, he turned around and started back toward the super's room, the door which Henry now noticed was open—cracked by six inches or so. Maybe he'd find something in there, but knowing Henry's luck, he probably wouldn't. And even worse, he probably wouldn't find anything anywhere to help.

Regardless, he headed into the room, using his good arm to open the door, and made his way inside. It looked the same way he'd seen it before, save for a lot of extra dust. It must've been uninhabited for a while. Henry wondered if Walter had killed Sunderland too, but didn't bother much with the thought as he headed into the bathroom and searched for a first-aid kit—not that it would really do a broken limb much good. On the other hand, painkillers wouldn't be a bad idea.

That in mind, Henry seized a bottle of ibuprofen and opened the bottle, downing four of the little reddish pills, then shoved the rest of the tablets into his shirt pocket. He knew he'd need them later on.

He needed to look for that key.

As much as his arm hurt, Henry left the bathroom and began searching the rest of the super's apartment for any sign of a key. Last time, he'd found an entire set of keys for the apartments, but he figured he wouldn't be so lucky this time.

"Oh!" Henry spoke in a mixture of surprise and relief when he spotted what appeared to be the clean white fabric of a shirt on a nearby chair. He was never good at making things from scratch, but Henry figured he could come up with a sling of sorts. That way, his arm wouldn't move so much.

He made quick work of doing so. One thing Henry had learned from his previous experiences in this world was to not take too long on one thing. You never knew when something would pop out of seemingly nowhere and try to hurt you.

It was a decent sling for less than a minute, Henry figured. It held his arm, which was starting to grow numb from the painkillers, firmly enough so that he could move around without flopping it about like a dead fish, and that was what he needed. He couldn't procrastinate any longer.

With that in mind, he resumed searching the room for a key, heading into Sunderland's bedroom. He was surprised nothing had attacked him so far, especially after what had happened with Eileen's ghost. It was deafeningly quiet now, and Henry's eardrums felt like they were going to explode from the silence.

He cursed under his breath when he found nothing of importance in the super's room. But he did have several other rooms on the first floor he could explore.

Henry started out the door, quickly heading back down the hallway and grabbing his gun. He had to fire with his left hand, now. His aim would be off, by a lot. But things were pretty quiet right now. Maybe they'd stay that way.

So much for wishful thinking.


End file.
